Oh, Darling Mine
by KnotofRibbon
Summary: Pegasus was never one to let things go so easily as others would. Especially, when a loved one dies and haunts his every move. From Pegasus' POV


Warnings: Disturbing imagery, necrophilia(?), and language.

Disclaimer: .Nothing.

Summary: Pegasus was never one to let things go so easily as others would. Especially, when a loved one dies and haunts his every move.

AN: This is a pointless (plotless?) Pegasus centric fan fiction. I will try to keep him as in character as possible. Though, this is from my perspective so it will probably slip away here and there. I see him as quite the romantic. This is my first attempt at a Pegasus fan fiction, and I don't believe he's even ever been in any of my others. Well, it's his turn I suppose. Him and his creepy romance. This might suck just a little bit, but ah well…It was on my mind.

So, here is a sort of look into the mental frame of Pegasus J. Crawford.

My twisted mind was inspired by the song 'Dead Girls' by Voltaire.

'_**Oh, Darling Mine'**_

Where did you go my darling? Why did you leave me here in this silence of thoughts surrounding our lovely love. It's like gun shots to my veins with every heart beat without you in my arms. I can still imagine your warmth, your face, your lips against mine. I can still vaguely recall the sound of your sweet voice, laughter, and harmonious hums.

We were supposed to go on forever, but you died.

Our life together was bound by truth, and yet so often I find myself in submission to the thoughts that all we were was a lie within that truth. Am I such a selfish, and thoughtless man to think such things? I believe so at all the times I've corrected this hazardous way.

You were my rose, my poetry, my paintings, and romance my dear was something we shared together with every sip of wine. I have a glass, red as blood, every day for you.

I'd of rather put a gun to my head than lose you all over again.

Often, I remember the night we met. I think of it, you, and the memories before my eyes shut each night, and even behind closed eyelids I dream of you. It is so tragic. Your beauty that is. Even stained cheeks of shyness we both graced as we joined hands to dance, and sway. I fell in love with you then, as you did with me.

Until the end, my dear. Until the end, I promise. Always.

A secret wedding day, alter clash of collapse in my arms. Why did you have to go that way? As I stared down to your diminishing lighted face I knew what it was. The answer for all the questions of 'how could I find someone so perfect?' Somehow, soul mates too early found were just simply not meant to be.

So, my bed was still soft without you, the day was still warm, my eyes remained the same color yet became distant as if a cloud. Yours too as they buried you.

I've constructed a plan inside this weary head of mine. Though, fragile it is solid and worrisome. I've made some brash decisions, and done some things terrible and selfish all for my love for you. Forgiveness, I cannot ask for. I know this for sure, but life goes on as it always does.

Come night time as sweet as valentines, and I shifted dark eyes to the window. The moonlight slept upon my platinum blond hair, but it came off as silvery anyhow. Darling devils helped shift my feet into gear. Only the door was in my way. The half mark checking to make sure if this was a _truthful_ quest. With all utilities and objects in hand, little sounds.

One step, two. _It was_.

Dust fell behind me as I walked up the dirt road leading to you. Soon enough, the hilltop pad my feet with green blades, and underneath the lovely tree was you. Your grave to be exact.

As if in a daze I found myself by your side in a matter of seconds, and just stood there staring as if in awe. As if it was the day of your burial all over again. There were knocks I could hear at a sort of ceremonial wall but they barely registered.

God took her away from me? Was she that needed up in fairy land? This angel? But I needed her too! I really needed her too to breathe and wait, and wake every morning seeing her sleepy head smile. God took her away for his own selfish purposes.

With these blubbering thoughts wafting through my head like tribal smoke I drove the shovel into the cold earth, making a thump crack sound. And I dug deeply, and I dug carelessly, and ferociously until all that remained were the little dust particles sifting away from a beautifully brown casket. It didn't shine so much anymore.

I jumped down, and almost instantly threw it open, but paused when my fingertips were mere inches away from freeing my darling. My hands were shaking like a hurricane. I stared at them dumbly, numbly. Then, hesitantly placed them against the gritty smooth surface of the cold wood. She was in there.

Almost stupidly, I knocked and waited for an answer. I called her name, but silence returned except the whipping winds at my back. For a moment, I thought I felt her cool hands touch the back of my neck and whisper nonsense.

It was a dream I could only wish to obtain once more, and that earned a sob wrenching itself from my throat. In an almost inarticulate writhing pain I opened her casket with tenderness.

She was so thin, but so beautiful with her dulling blond hair. It was becoming more like straw. A hand reached to trace the lines of that pale face once more. With love, with love I bent forward, tears draining from my eyes, and placed my lips against her dry and chapped. It wasn't the same.

"_Kiss_ me," I almost cried, and she was so cold and stiff now.

"_See_ me," again fool of love.

"_Hear_ me," exclaiming grips along brittleness. I bit my lip in a bit of anticipation, but there was nothing. Nothing at all, and I grew a little angry almost. Why wouldn't she look at me? Open her eyes, and listen, and speak to me.

"Cynthia," a begging groan came from a wedged throat. It was a bit raspy. A pleading tone of empty regrets to promises.

She didn't love me anymore? Was that it?

I stroked her face, longing for her arms to reach up and cup my cheeks like those days not long, but so long ago. I could swear that I could hear her breathe, but I know that was only false sympathy, maybe pity, on my part. Still, she was there. She was still Cynthia, and she glowed. Not the glowing shine of the sun, but the moon light spilled it's rays upon her flesh. Melting me, dear, you are inside. My eyes traced the lines that made up every curve and crevice of her body. These eyes found her hand. It still had the wedding ring delicately wound around her bony finger. It was shining too. Bold, and prominent against the darkness of this hole.

After hesitating for a moment, I lay beside her, and took her into my arms. Again, I heard some strange wheezing murmurs at my ears but I was starting to think it was my own insanity. She wasn't gone. I could still embrace her. She was here, but she wasn't.

The thought of following her into oblivious heaven _did_ cross my mind. How could it not? I can't bare this miserable life without her, but still I'm here desperately trying to dredge up the idea of how to bring her back to me. Why I couldn't simply collapse along with her was beyond my ideals.

Was I that much of a coward?

Maybe, that was so.

Eyelashes winked at me, swearing by loving shields. I wished she would just open her eyes one more time. Just one more time look at me so I could observe the raging, but so gentle, flames of passion buried with the etching designs. It was like Egyptian goddesses, and it was like the pictured tablets hanging along the walls of the museum. So carefully constructed was her beauty.

And quiet. I want to hear your voice once more as well. That sweet song you would hum when you thought no one was listening. Or, perhaps you knew and didn't mind the listening passerby's. It was lovely either way. I wonder if I ever told you that.

Do you remember how we would sit for hours, and I would pick up my brush to put your face on the pallid, the canvas? Such a piece of paper could never capture your true essence, but still I wanted to paint you. You sat perfectly still, smile never wavering, even with the drilling time. It seemed like a fairy tale, looking back now, as we sat underneath the trees of summer. Each moment made me fall deeper into that mushy depth. With you. We were both falling, I believe. What was hidden beneath all those shades and colors and hues, I've often wondered. Somehow, I don't want to know, and yet I do so badly it almost stings.

My stomach gave a sudden lurch at the voice calling behind me. It ripped me from my thoughts.

"Sir," the tone questioned with a slight waver.

Maybe, this was a good thing, but I don't want to leave yet. Not yet, no. I want to stay here beside her forever and even if I can't touch her and have it returned, I want to stare toward her beauty lost somewhere in eternity.

That is where I am truly blessed.

"Sir, you'll catch your death out here. Please, come inside," it requested once more.

"Croquet," I began.

"She's," and I couldn't even say it, but somehow he knew.

"Yes, sir. For years now." That was all that it took. Those simple words to remind me, or rather, reassure me that my darling wife was really gone. She was buried, and dead, and _gone. _Of course, I would never marry again. I could never love someone as much as I loved her. _Still_, love her.

"Lets go inside," Croquet said comfortingly and offered down his sturdy hand. I turned my haunted features to him, and grabbed his hand. Firm, but unrelenting and soft. He pulled me up, and only for a moment glanced at my grief stricken face. I was shaking, I'm sure, and pale in that clammy way.

We walked back to the mansion in silence. Then, the weight came. How could I leave my beloved in that cold ground, open coffin top, hands once folded, or was it folded, neatly at her bosom? How could I? I'm a beast!

My feet stopped, then moved once more as a slight tug came from my side.

"Mr. Pegasus, sir. Please. Someone will fix up her resting place just the way it was before." He was choosing his words carefully. I could tell. I'd known Croquet for a while now. He was my most loyal body guard, and dare I say, friend.

I nodded to assure him that I'd heard and understood his sentiments. It was almost a comfort to hear such things. Maybe, the best thing was to crawl into my bed, and dream of her. It wouldn't be the same, but…

That was where I was truly blessed, you see.

I've been privileged with the gift best of all.

I knew her, and loved her when she was alive, and she loved me back. That puts my heavy eyelids at rest, and my thumping heart to a steady beat along with my slow rising chest. That night she did visit me, and we shared a glass of wine. Glasses clinked together, and from across I could see that little spark, that twinkle of a smile, in her eyes. I could feel her warmth with vivid recognition, watch as her lips stretched to reveal even white teeth, but the best thing of all was hearing the echo of her voice.

She was just as I remembered her. Graceful, lovely, and alive.

I knew, somehow, deep inside that she wouldn't ever really die. She's here with me, always, in my memories.

That is where I'm truly blessed, you see, my darling mine will always be.

A/N:: Hope you enjoyed that. I irked myself a little bit with this one. I wonder if I should be worried? I know the ending sucked, but I'm really bad at them! Nyahaha Hope it wasn't offensive or anything. If it was, I _deeply _apologize.

So, there was a slight mention of Croquet and Pegasus..? Who knows.

Ah, I'm not much of a religious person, at all, but I was thinking about what a person's thoughts and feelings would be like if something like this did happened to them if they have such strong beliefs.

Pretty short, wasn't it? It's only five pages long. Hope it didn't have that rushed feeling about it? Did you notice, I got a bit poetic here and there and it ended up rhyming. Oops. Oh well, it added a little oomph to it, I guess.

Take care everyone.


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